Maria's Search
by SHIELD-HR
Summary: Maria Hill is on medical leave and decides to go looking for her father, who apparently disappeared about five years previously. That she didn't even notice says quite a bit about their lack of a relationship, but she has nothing but time on her hands for a while and decides to face down that particular demon after too many years of avoiding it. If she can find the man first.


It had been thirteen years now since she had last seen or spoken to her father. He'd signed her early admission papers so she could join the Marines, she had left home and gotten an apartment for the space between then and when she could begin basic, and she had never looked back.

She'd turned thirty this year, and the years between were beginning to wear on her conscience. She didn't know where he was living, for all she knew he may still be in Chicago, or what he was doing with his life now. She'd never listed him as a next of kin, opting instead to have none listed, so he'd never sent her so much as a card on the few occasions when she'd needed a hospital visit to fix something that had happened in the field.

After the horrible childhood he'd put her through, Maria wasn't even sure why she cared, even a little bit. But it was Christmas, and she believed in forgiveness. To a point. She could never have a close relationship with him, she thought, it was too late for that. But she could keep tbs on him, send him a card or something.

Maybe he thought she was dead in Afghanistan or Iraq. Maybe he had wished it, as he'd often done when she was little; that the baby had died and his wife survived. She didn't even have a picture of her parents to hang in her office or rooms. Her father never had one up anywhere, as if her mother's betrayal in dying was almost as severe as Maria's in surviving.

She sighed deeply and pulled her computer towards her and began the search.

::No Current Results Matching Criteria In Chicago::

she ordered state-wide.

::No Current Results Matching Criteria in Illinois::

Her eyebrow winged up and she ordered a search of the surrounding states.

::No Current Results Matching Criteria In Any Selected State::

maybe _he _was dead, and forgiveness was too late

A month later

…

Out on medical leave after a less-than-satisfactory psych evaluation and a run-in with an angry frost giant, Maria decided to leave the Helicarrier for a week to try and get her head on straight. She had previously attempted to track her father down with no luck even on the nation-wide search, and had decided to go to Chicago and start searching there. The old house still stood, its taxes paid by a trust her father had set up years ago. He'd done it so he didn't have to worry about it anymore.

He didn't worry about quite a lot of things, she reflected. Like his daughter, or his practice. Both had suffered from neglect after her mother's death in childbirth. How a doctor had managed to let it go so long before calling for help… She stood in front of her childhood home and took stock of the neighborhood.

She was the only white person on the street, which was exactly how she remembered it. Her father had chosen to live in this area to better serve his clients, and had been respected for it. In this neighborhood, there was little crime, and the houses were as well-maintained as could be expected. Her house was the worst of the lot, with the paint peeling and the yard overgrown. SOMEONE had been mowing the lawn every now and again, because it wasn't a jungle yet. She opened the gate and walked up to the porch, every muscle in her body braced to run away. She had sworn she'd never come back here, and she had meant it.

She knocked on the door and rand the bell. Nothing happened. She was startled to hear a voice behind her.

"He's not home. Hasn't been for years." She turned and eyed the speaker, a man of roughly her own age with a small child at his back. She vaguely recalled him, and the look of the boy confirmed her guess; he looked just like his father.

"Corwin." She nodded at him. "Remember me? I'm Maria. Where did he go, then?"

Corwin gave her an odd look. "You can't be Maria. She died. Five years ago, in Afghanistan."

Maria gave him a Look, and pulled her ID out. "Hate to bring bad news, but no, I did not." Thinks, five years ago was the last trace of her father she'd had. "What happened to him, Corwin? I will not ask again."

"He went traveling. He got word that your unit got hit hard, and a bunch of you died. He wasn't listed as Next of Kin, so no one would tell him anything. But they wouldn't deny it, either. He just decided you were dead, and fell apart." Corwin shrugged. "He locked up, asked me to keep an eye on the place, and drove off in that old junker of his. Never said where to, but he packed light."

Maria stared into the distance for a minute. She'd found no records of his car registration being renewed, no mention of anything. Maybe there was a clue in the house itself. "Everything in working order in there?" Corwin nodded. She assumed the bills were paid by the trust, too. She'd have to look into that angle. "Alright. I will be hanging around for a week or so unless the trail picks up elsewhere. You still live on the corner?" Again the nod. "I will let you know if I need to leave. Are you paid for looking after this?"

Corwin shrugs. "Nope, but he was a good doctor, and I wouldn't be here but for him. I'm happy to pay it back."

Maria looked at him and gave a half-smile. "I can pay you, if it helps. I know the economy is horrid, if you need it." Corwin smiled and shook his head.

"Maria, you just find him and tell him to get back here, where we can keep an eye on him. That's payment enough right there."

She promised she would do her best, and unlocked the door and headed inside.

…

A few days later

…

Returning to the search after two days off seeing friends, Maria finally found the courage to open the last room. This had been her room as a child, and she had taken everything she wanted out of it when her father had signed her early enlistment papers and she left for basic 13 years ago. That had been a toothbrush, hairbrush, clothes, and the stuffed bear she stored carefully in a safe-deposit box while she was deployed. Everything else she had left behind.

She unlocked and opened the door slowly, its hinges creaking in protest. From the slight fall of dust, and the layer coating the handle, she figured he had been in here before he drove into nowhere five years ago. Inside, the fall of dust was even heavier, with obvious footprints, filled in with five years of dust, which showed his path. He had walked to her dresser, and then walked back out. She stepped carefully alongside his steps, examining the floor as she went for anything he may have dropped. Nothing.

On the dresser were a framed photograph, and a letter. Neither had been there thirteen years ago, and she didn't recognize the woman in the picture. The woman was laughing, smiling at the camera, and standing in front of a large oak tree. She was pregnant, Maria guessed maybe eight months along, and her hands were wrapped lovingly around her maybe-child. There was a baby would be wanted, thought Maria bitterly. Putting it out of her mind, she picked up the letter. Ignoring the twinge of jealousy for a baby she didn't even know, she opened it.

My Darling Maria,  
I know this is far too little, and far too late. I heard of your unit's misfortune, and no one can tell me if you are alive or dead. I feel certain you must now be dead, though God knows we were not ever close enough for me to justify the dread and loss I now feel. That was my fault, I admit. You were a baby, a child, a reminder of the woman I loved and the desolation left by her death. You survived, against all the odds, and I couldn't find the tiniest shred of humanity to forgive you for it. For that, I am so very sorry.  
I go now to make amends. I haven't practiced medicine since you left eight years ago, but I am far from retired. I think that perhaps saving children in the poorest sections of the world might in some small way atone for the years of neglect and abuse I heaped upon you. I look back at my actions, and can hardly blame you for running into the waiting arms of the first thing that would take you far away from me, and as early as possible. I tried to keep tabs on you, though I was hampered by your refusal to list me as Next of Kin. I earned that slight, I know, though it hurts now as it never did before.  
You served with distinction, and showed pride and skill in your work. Your former commanding officers spoke highly of you, and your rather meteoric rise through the ranks was an inspiration to other Marines. I never valued you highly enough, and I never loved you as I should have done. It is too late now for words, so I hope and pray my actions will be enough. I leave this with your mother for safe-keeping. The one I never wanted to bury and the other I never got to bury. This picture is all that remains of your mother, and I feel certain she would have stood guard over you had she lived just as much as she must have done in death. I suppose you will see her first, something I never expected.

With all the Love I should have given sooner,  
Your Father

Maria read the letter and looked again at the photo. If she'd been paying attention, she'd have seen the similarities earlier. She folded the letter carefully, and then took both it and the letter down to the living room, locking her room back up behind her. Storing them in her bag, burying them and the painful memories they brought back up, she finished packing. She was headed to New York now, and would have to ask Mr. Stark for a favor. She hated that. However, when all was said and done, the man was human, and had a heart. He was also a genius for intelligence work, with a system that rivaled SHIELD's and perhaps dwarfed it. He could find what she needed, and she wouldn't have to use her professional resources to do it. If she had to bribe him, she had no idea what she'd do. He had two of everything already.

She shouldered her bag and went outside, locking the front door behind her. Throwing her gear into the rental car, she headed across the street and told Corwin what she'd discovered, and where she planned to head next. She gave him her personal contact information, and left him with instructions to contact her should he learn or see anything. She drove away thoughtfully. She knew what she had to do; she knew how to do it. The question was should she? She felt half-inclined to let him go, let him continue thinking she was dead, let him keep atoning. She supposed she would see what he was doing, and how he was doing it, before she made a decision.

She drove on, towards New York, and shawarma with the most troublesome of the Avengers. Not at all sure she really knew what she was doing, she did it anyway. Family, she thought, is a pain in the ass.

…

The Next Day

…

The lunch with Stark went as well as could be expected. Pepper, sensing they had matters of a personal nature to discuss, let them alone after making sure they had what they needed. Stark had, or course, forgotten the lunch, so Maria had gotten take-out shawarma and brought it to The Tower.

"So, Deputy Director Hill…" Stark, finishing the last bite of his food, eyed her over his drink, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" His tone was indifferent and slightly amused, but Maria knew him well enough by now to know he was intrigued. She made a point of never asking personal favors, from anyone, and he knew it.

Still, she hesitated before speaking. This was a powerful and busy man, and not one to forget debts owed or due. A personal debt is a sacred honor, something Maria learned early in life and believed in utterly. But family is family, and Maria needed to fins hers; if only to know if he was alive or not.

"I need a favor. A big favor, actually." Stark's eyebrows rose. That she would admit to it being more than just a minor matter was more than just surprising. "I'm trying to locate my father, and you could do it faster than I, since I am unwilling to use SHIELD resources to do it. It's a personal thing, and using the sorts of things I'd have to use to locate him, well, I'd rather not."

Stark considered a moment before answering, taking another sip of his drink, and swirling his glass carefully. "Are you sure you want to find him? Really?" Maria looked at him sharply as he spoke. "You see, I like to know who I am working with, Agent Hill. I've done background research on all of you; Fury, the more human of the Avengers, and yourself. So when you say you want to find your father, I call bullshit."

Maria was too resigned to be angry. Of course Stark ran backgrounds on them. Not that he'd have gotten much on some of them, and wouldn't that have been a pisser for him, but her background wasn't particularly classified or hidden. She sighed heavily. "Alright, you may be correct in that I don't want to find him. But I need to find him. He disappeared five years ago, and I'm only just learning about this. I have reason to believe he went somewhere in a third world country to work with children, but there's nothing. He didn't want to be found."

"If he didn't want to be found, why are you trying to find him?"

"Because he thinks I'm dead. Apparently he had feelings beyond bitter resentment in the end. Why should I let him continue his life of contrition and penance if he doesn't have to?"

"Maybe because he should?" Stark hadn't raised his voice, but his tone had frosted over, and Maria looked at him carefully. His father had been cold and distant, she knew, and his mother had been an ineffective shield between her son and his father's drinking problem. They had both died when he was 17, but at least he'd known his mother, and neither of them had ever hit him. It had never occurred to her that Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, might… dear God… pity her.

Maria shrugged, as if it didn't matter. The realization that Stark both knew and felt sorry for her background was a serious blow to her pride, and made this a whole lot trickier. He may refuse to help out of the mistaken, or not she thought suddenly, belief that he was doing her a greater favor by keeping her away from her father. He had that kind of twisted chivalry. "Look, I can do this myself, but I'd be risking a great deal utilizing SHIELD resources. Plus, I'm on vacation now, and how often does that happen? Please, Tony."

Maybe it was using his given name that did it, maybe it was the earnest expression. Maybe Stark's heart grew three sizes that day. Whatever it was, he finally nodded. "Fine, yes. I'll help you." He swallowed the rest of his drink in one huge gulp and set the glass down with a loud thunk. "Come into my parlor, as the spider said."

"I always wanted to be a fly on the wall while you work," said Maria with a slight grin. "Though I must admit, running searches like this is not what I would have chosen for my entertainment."

Amused, Stark led the way into his office. As he opened operations and brought three screens down from their hiding places in the ceiling he asked mildly "and what would have been your chosen entertainment?"

Maria looked at him for a moment before answering. "Science, interesting stuff. Theoretical Astrophysics. That sort of thing."

Stark grinned into the monitor where she couldn't see it. He did enjoy winding SHIELD personnel up, but she seemed unflappable. This would be fun…

…

One day later

…

Maria's plane ride to Durban was long and tedious. She'd booked first class, she had the money, and spent most of it sleeping. She texted with Sigyn a few times, and asked the other woman to pass her greetings onto Sleipnir, along with her promises to visit again when she could. She was smiling as the plane touched down.

She commandeered a jeep and headed towards Kennedy Road. Her father was, according to what Stark had pulled up for her, working in the shanty town, or shack settlement, whatever, as a medic. She took the text from Sigyn and the news it carried badly, cursing viciously in about seven different languages. Nevertheless, she drove on. It was none of her business, and she had family matters of her own to see to first.

She stopped at the edge of the settlement, and parked the jeep in a police lot. After flashing her ID and badge at them, she walked on. _Police officers, _she thought, _God save us all._ They warned her not to go into the settlement… the white officers crying dire warnings on the fate of all nice women who went in there. She rolled her eyes and walked on. This was an Abahlali settlement, after all. No xenophobic attacks allowed. She was perhaps safer here than in Chicago. In any case she felt more at ease here. Here there was work to be done, things to be seen, people to find.

It took her a while, as no schematics of the settlement existed, but she had scanned the satellite feeds and managed to locate the bigger shacks she guessed served as a medical center. As she drew closer she was more and more nervous. The next text from Sigyn, more frantic and with the request to notify Loki as soon as she got back did nothing for her stomach. She _never_ got nerves, yet here she was, hesitating outside.

A nice lady who wore her authority and suspicion like a second skin came out and asked her what she was doing. "You got troubled eyes. Police eyes. There's no trouble here. No police, neither." Maria tried to smile and lost it in the nerves. The suspicion in the lady's eyes died out and was replaced by concern. "You come to my office, hey? We can talk alone there." She followed eyes casting around for a glimpse of a familiar face. Momentary panic; would she even know him again?

Seated in a partitioned area, with the lady sitting opposite and a cup of what was probably coffee set before her, Maria explained her mission. "I am looking for someone. My last information puts him here as of a month ago, helping in the clinic. I don't need to contact him or meet him. I just need to make sure he is alive and well. I don't know the name he is here under, but this is the last ID photo of him, five years ago." She slid a printed out version across to the woman, who looked at it and nodded.

"I can not help you, unless you give me details. Who is he to you, that you would seek him here?"

Maria sighed, and leaned forward. "He is my father." Seeing the woman's expression, Maria realized he may have told her he thought she was dead. She pulled her ID out and showed the woman. "He thinks I am dead, and he can go on thinking it as long as he wishes. For myself, I want to know he is alive, doing well. As happy as he could be, under the circumstances. We were never close, but he remains my father."

Mildly, the woman picked up her coffee and took a sip as she said sardonically, "and you, out of so fond a memory as he has admitted to us you must have of him, decided to track him here? Not to speak to, but just to assure yourself of his well-being?"

"That is it exactly. I have no desire to reopen communications with him." The militarily formal speech was a refuge, hiding her thoughts and emotions behind it her own shield. "If he is well, and doing good work here, I will not take him away from where he is so obviously needed."

The woman nodded again. "He is here still, yes. He lives not far, but his shift is not for another two hours. He is well. I have never met a man with a finer immune system." _I have,_ thought Maria. "But is he happy? That I do not know. He is a hard man to read, your father. Much like you, I imagine when you do not care to be read." The woman was eying her in a knowing way with which Maria was not entirely comfortable. "But he has someone here. Perhaps not someone to fill all the gaps left by your mother, but a second-best I think. He would leave, even so, if you asked. Maria, he loves you in his way, if he as late to realize it."

Maria was stunned. "He…he _has_ someone?" The pieces started to click together. "You'd seen me before. You knew me, even before I answered your questions, asked because you weren't sure." At the woman's nod, Maria continued. "You?"

"Me. Three years now. Not married, he never could I think. But he has your picture with him. I knew you from it, yes." The woman straightened her mug on the wobbly desk. Nervous, perhaps. "Will you take him, Maria? If he is not happy here, but as close as he can be?"

"No. If he is content in his life as it is, I will walk away and never look back. I don't need him or particularly want him cluttering up my life right now. For his safety as well as mine." Thinking of Loki and Thanos, Odin, all the horrors, Maria devoutly wished this kind-looking woman out of all of that, and her father too. "Knowing he is well, that would be enough for me. I will leave you contact details, if you require aid." She stood and looked around at the poor excuse for a clinic. "I can perhaps fund some of this. I have not done poorly for myself."

The woman was as stunned as Maria had been, but recovered quickly. "I will not lie, we could use the money. Equipment, supplies, food. Maybe walls." She looked around the clinic as well, as they moved back outside. "This is home now, and these people family. I will take you down to our place, yes? Perhaps you can see for yourself, even if you do not wish to speak to him." At Maria's nod, she threaded her arm through Maria's and led her down the step path.

They halted beside a better-constructed shack with a red cross painted on it. Through the window, an older version of the man she knew was puttering around, dressed and making lunch. He whistled to herself, something the neighborhood ladies had said he used to do when her mother was alive. Maria had never heard it before today. She leaned over and kissed the cheek of the woman beside her, impulsively. "He is happy. If you had any doubts, forget them. That is a content and happy man." She slipped a card into the woman's hand. "Contact me with details on what you need money for, and how much. I will double check your prices and see if I can get it for better. I would not take him for this."

Leaving the woman behind, and probably staring after her in amused and pleasantly surprised shock, Maria climbed the hill and left. He had moved on, and found happiness. He was well, and safe, and doing good works. Whatever hole in his heart had been left by her leaving had been filled by this woman, and Maria suddenly realized she had never asked her name. Too late to go back for it, she would simply await an email or a call.

So she walked away, and closed the book on that chapter of her life. She wouldn't have to think of it again, and she smiled softly into the afternoon glare. Mae West had said "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." He had found his Right. Maybe it was time for Maria Hill to go find hers.


End file.
